Chapter Fourteen: "Dodging Bullets"

Draco Malfoy was hyperventilating.
All the kisses, the half-assed attempts at intimacy and banging that he'd experienced so far were flying through his mind in this moment. And they were all child's play compared to this, both in significance and feeling.

Hermione and he were snogging furiously, dizzy from their absence of sobriety and from the excitement of how naughty they were being.
He couldn't turn his thoughts down long enough to act how she deserved, and as always, inadequacy had overflowed his skull to rattle his confidence.
Hermione Granger is touching my chest.
Hermione Granger is running her fingers down my back.
Hermione Granger…..is taking off my clothes.

She'd paused, fiddling with the hem of his housecoat, about to discard it fully. Naked underneath, he was deeply aware that her hands were inches away from where he wanted them to be, and wondered if she knew that too.

The overwhelming tension lingered between them when she wrenched herself away from his lips to ask a question without words, gazing at him sheepishly, almost shyly. It was a lethal combination.

Hermione didn't trust him, and he knew it would take a hell of a long time to get her to that point. But he was greedy, and he wanted her just as badly as she seemed to want him right now. Their relationship was already bizarre, had already began with a passion that was unquestionable. Letting themselves do what they wanted didn't seem too careless in this moment.
And consenting himself to become exposed, literally, was somewhat of a start. A rocky start, but he justified it that way so he could concentrate. Being bold was the mind state he needed to be in; He was a Malfoy. He wasn't hideous, he'd already charmed her this far, and he could do this. She was so enticing, he didn't want to – no, couldn't - fail her expectations. Though his nerves were worse than when taking his NEWTS, he let his instinct take the lead.

"Fuck it," he breathed, whipping off the robe to the floor and yanking her back into him.

His audacity paid off.
An untamed groan rose up her throat feeling his body against hers, erection pressed firmly below her waist as he pecked her neck, his arms winding around her and into her hair.

She skimmed her way down his spine to his arse, pulling him even closer, raising one leg as gracefully as possible to wrap it around him.

"Should we be doing this?" she gasped, when he began unzipping the pull that was keeping her top so snugly on.

"Probably not; that's why we want to so desperately," he smirked, kissing the bare skin of her stomach upwards, daring to nibble on the underwire of her bra. "Are you still in pain?"

She'd completely forgotten that she fell on her ankle.

"N-no – god, no." Panting heavily, they both stopped to chuckle at her response."Touch me."

"Where?" he inquired playfully, the ghost of his breath dancing on her neck.
He didn't want to push her past her boundary, and wisely, he wanted her to take the lead so he wouldn't do something wrong.

"Here," she replied, drawing his hands to cup her breasts. "Wait - Help me."

Shrugging off her shirt while sitting up slightly, Draco grabbed the side, and in unison they awkwardly relieved her of it.
Displaying her beautiful pink lingerie now, she wanted to scream at the unmasked lust in his expression. He stroked her bare hip softly, and trailed back up over her chest appreciatively, leaning in to kiss her again once she started to moan.

After several minutes of making out and gentle groping, Hermione couldn't stand it anymore. She wasn't ready to let him see all of her, but apparently he had no qualms when the roles were reversed. They were grinding against each other, she felt herself growing wet with every passing second, and in a fit of recklessness, she decided to peek at his cock.
And then grab it.

His whole frame stiffened, and she felt herself melting at the high-pitched whimper that escaped him, one of pure pleasure that most men tried to stifle.
"Can I touch you?" she murmured tentatively.

"Do you have to ask?" he sighed, urging himself into her grip, craving more. As much as he could get.

Sliding up and down his whole length deliciously slow, she nipped at his shoulder , finding his prominent collarbones sexy. Thoroughly enjoying the noises he was making.
She relished even more in how he felt. He was thick, smooth; tempting. Wanting nothing more than to strip down to nothing and set herself on him until the sun came up, instead she teased him.

She was a near expert at hand jobs, she must be by now. She also knew he hadn't ever had one before – properly anyways – and desired to show him what he was missing.
Changing tempos, going fast and slow, she grasped different spots on his shaft, squeezing hard, and then soft. It was all meant to surprise him, and it was working. She was pleased at every sudden jerky movement he made, at every tempered growl.

"You're killing me, love."

"Am I?"
It was almost a challenge he'd set. She untangled her limbs from his and pushed him on his back. Creating a faster uniform rhythm, she was relentless, trying to get him to cum instead of thrill him.
"How about now?"

Muttering curses and wriggling feverishly, he was clawing at the sheets when he experienced his first orgasm caused by a lovely lady. He came a lot.
She didn't let him go even after it all shot out onto his belly, and he stayed hard after the fact because he was so outrageously aroused. He so desired to attack her with his mouth as she sat there with a smug look on her, like she was a cat that had got the cream, but he was too engulfed in bliss.

"Think you might be a bit more wicked then you let on," he sighed, rolling onto his side to view her, grabbing her hands so he could relax again.
Playing with the clasps of her bra, he tugged her so she could rest her head on him.

"Maybe," she whispered, calming his roaming fingers. "Feel nice?"

"Obviously," he shook his head like it was a stupid question while she giggled. "You look tired."

His head and heart were pounding, and he guessed she was coming back to reality now by the way she fidgeted in his arms. She didn't want to keep going, so he let her go, caressing her cheek instead. Pecking her on the forehead, he was wishing he could peck all over every inch of her. Wishing he could see what lay underneath her knickers.

"Yeah, I am…can I stay here with you?"

Say no, his rational side advised him. Patience.
"Yes."
Let's be honest, when was he ever sensible, let alone patient?

"Do you have a shirt I can borrow?" she asked timidly. "Don't fancy sleeping in a near corset."

"Oh, yeah…."
He was suddenly extremely self-conscious, stricken by the fact that he was no longer, ahem, at his full extent, and fumbled to get up and over to his wardrobe to remedy the situation.
Rifling through to get himself some skivvies, he jumped into them and hastily fetched her a white t-shirt.

"Actually – "
He paused, her tone sending shivers through his whole body.
"Can you….can you help me get my jeans off?"

Swallowing hard, he told her he just needed to get a drink first, throwing his clothes onto the bed so she could change.
Sauntering into the en suite washroom, he splashed the cool water on his face, and wiped off his abs, staring at himself in the mirror. Breathing heavily, he tried to prepare himself for this. He won the damn lottery; a bit more than a week ago he was snuggling up to Georgia May pretending she was Hermione. Now he got to hold the real thing through the night for reasons he still didn't know.

Returning into the room, she was waiting for him quietly, smiling. He noticed her nipples showing through the thin fabric of his shirt, her bra on the floor, her trousers already undone. Walking over to her, he let her guide him to her waist, fingering the belt loops to drag it down.
"Don't worry, you won't hurt me," she coaxed him as he hesitated.
He wasn't hesitating because of that, he'd just spotted her sheer panties, the lace and what was underneath them threatening to rip his boxers in two.

But he wasn't a feral animal; just tipsy. He skimmed the jeans past her silky thighs, over her knobbly knees, and when he reached her feet, was so careful she couldn't help but grin.

She let out a small cry of agony, her foot turning in an uncomfortable angle. Apologizing profusely, he lifted up her calf, bent over the mattress and kissed her ankle repeatedly.
It was quite possibly one of the most endearing things anyone had done.

"Come here," she called, beckoning him back to bed.

And as he returned, she had to admit something to herself. She was enchanted by this stupid, appealing person that had wandered into her life at the worst time. But as he fell back to her, and she settled in his hold, it felt good. Far too soon for this sort of behaviour normally, maybe – but this wasn't normal. Not in the slightest.

"Night," he murmured, his voice vibrating against her scalp, leaving it tingly.

"Sweet dreams."

Saturday

He didn't dream; he was restless.
Having a girl next to him that he actually fancied was too surreal for him to process. So when they awoke, she was in fine spirits, and he was ready to collapse into a heap.

Hermione detected this, hoped she hadn't snored or something, then told him she was skipping out on brunch to ensure Ginny was in one piece. She'd left her phone at home.

They said their goodbyes, telling each other that they'd be in touch, and Draco gave her a chaste kiss on the lips as he sent her off in a taxi home. Both of them wanted more, but realized that they had to take it easy. There were still Harry and Ginny to deal with. Blaise and Pansy. Funnily enough, Ron would probably be the worst.

Her foot was mended easily once they were clear-headed enough to use their wands, all one needed was minor healing spell and she was a master. But he was still wary that she'd overexert herself, and she appreciated that he actually thought enough to call a cab. Looking out the back window of the car, she watched him disappear as they turned a corner; he stood waiting until she was gone.

As they were left alone, they both had the revelation that they liked each other. It was a simple realization, but one that filled them with joy that hadn't been felt since adolescence.
Draco was hard-pressed to think of a fond memory that paralleled this in the slightest, euphoric from the fact that a member of the opposite sex wanted to touch his cock.
He was exhausted and happy, and with thoughts of her swirling in his head, he fell back onto his sheets and went to sleep immediately.

Hermione was gobsmacked – though it was a bit pitiful – that she hadn't recalled this same sensation since Viktor asked her to the Yule Ball.
So she was slightly dazed when she walked into her apartment, until Ginny launched herself into her arms, hugging her in a manner she usually didn't.

"God, Hermione! Don't fucking do that ever again!"
Letting go, her flatmate let out a sigh of relief and marched to the couch, sinking onto it dramatically. She looked much better than last night, save for the red filling her cheeks with annoyance.

"Ginny? I'm fine. I'm so sorry, did you get my note?"

"Well of course I did, but you could've called to say that you weren't coming home. You always tell me your plans, I had no idea where you were! You're damn lucky I didn't call Harry….or the cops."

"Ginny….God, I'm sorry."
She plopped down next to her, with her day old hair and makeup, and borrowed clothing, and began to turn from elated to terrible. Ginny had a temper certainly, but she rarely had such bursts of fretting, it was usually anger.

What is wrong with me? She questioned her sanity for the hundredth time this month.
It was uncharacteristic that she wouldn't have everything under control, have everyone informed; it was irresponsible.
She should have let her know where she went, even if she had to tell a white lie.

Exhaling, Ginny spun onto her back and stayed silent for a moment.
"It's alright, you just usually are on top of things….guess I'm a little worried about you," she confessed, glancing at her, her fiery eyes calmed.

"Well don't be. I've made a string of mistakes, but lately…." Her mind wandered to Draco, his touch and his lips. "I think I'm doing better."

"It's a bloke, isn't it?"

She whipped her gaze to Ginny, who looked amused, and then rolled her eyes: "Well come on the, who is it? No doubt you stayed the night at his place."

Hermione gulped. "How would you know if it was a bloke? Is that the only reason one can get out of a rut?"

"What, by getting thoroughly shagged?" Ginny suggested vulgarly, grinning widely. "No, of course not. But I know you, and that's your tell. The impassive, 'lost in space' look you adopted just now. You never look that way otherwise, now do you?"

"Well…."

"Don't be daft, honestly," Ginny laughed, kicking her foot with hers. "If you didn't see anyone you thought was fit last night, why the hell would you borrow my sluttiest shirt?"

"I - ….yes, alright fine," she admitted, wherein Ginny squealed 'I knew it!'. "But it's not serious right now, so I'm not telling you. And I didn't sleep with him."
At least, not in the conventional sense, she thought.

"Really? That's unfair, you little minx! And good, you certainly don't need any more rash decisions under your belt. I'm assuming he's going to be better than the last one. Does he work with you? Oh, Ron's going to be so jealous," she snorted. "That's going to be fun for you."

There were many guesses on who her 'new beau' was throughout the day. All of them wrong. And eventually, Ginny relented her pestering (that was all in good fun), when they all went out for dinner. The subject didn't come up thankfully because Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had decided to join them in London. So naturally, most of the conversation was centered on Arthur's enthusiastic questions about muggle life.

A bit tipsy from wine, Hermione came back to their apartment uncaring that Ginny had brought along Harry. After all, they usually went to his, and Ron surely needed a break from their "antics".

However, Hermione wasn't completely prepared for the dirty talk and constant creaking leaking through her walls. Harry had been busy lately, and they hadn't had lots of time alone. Once the first hour came and went, and they were still going strong, Hermione was impressed, envious…and mildly disgusted.
Deciding they'd be busy forever, she chanced everything and dialled Draco, who picked up on the second ring. He was bored at home.

"Hey Granger."
She could almost see his smirk through the line.

"Hi. Just wanted to call you before I go to sleep. Did you manage to get rest?" she asked coyly.

"Oh yeah. Woke up three hours ago."

"It's 10! I left at 11," she laughed disbelievingly.

"Yeah well, didn't get a wink last night. Was too distracted by this really attractive girl that was in my bed with me."

"Oh? A girl? Sounds naughty. I hope she provided you with some satisfaction."

Though she couldn't witness it, Draco was grinning devilishly, sprawled out on the balcony sofa, just a teensy bit high.
Miles and Adrian had shown up unexpectedly - Draco wasn't sure how they got his address - to check in on him around 8. Apparently word got round that he threw the first punch, that he lured Blaise into his house to fight. But by the way Pansy was behaving, drinking a lot, and making a general hissy fit in every vicinity she visited, the more sensible boys knew it wasn't the truth.

Assuring them he was better than good, that his wounds were healed, and he was just 'busy'; they'd smoked a joint. He understood that they left wondering why he was so cheery, but unless Miles had filled Arian in on their club talk concerning Hermione, he was safe for now. He'd let them know in due time. After all, Draco wanting Potter's best mate was just a rumour to the Slytherins. Pansy may have offered up what Sergei observed in Harvey Nichols, but she was a green-eyed monster, and they could only take her word with a grain of salt.

"Oh, she did. In fact, I'm sitting outdoors, very lonesome, wishing she was right here next to me."

"Maybe she wishes the same," she replied, nestling into her pillows, stomach tightening at the thought of his arms wrapped around her waist.

"Maybe she'll apparate outside my building so I can let her in," he said with an almost pleading tone, knowing the answer but trying to persuade her nevertheless.

"I believe that would be less than wise," Hermione sighed. "Although I do want to get out of here."

"And why is that?" he inquired, trying to focus his dizzy head, rubbing his forehead.

"Listen." She held up the mobile, putting it on speakerphone.
Faintly, he could catch loud moans, loud curses, and the squeaking of metal against wood.

"Ew," was all he could say in response. Picturing Potter in flagrante was the last thing he wanted to do. "We can go get coffee or something? If you aren't in the mood to stay over. It's Saturday; still early."

"You say that because you had a century-long cat nap," she retorted, picking on him.

"Is that a yes?"
She contemplated it for a moment.
It was a bad idea to sneak away again, but she would otherwise be trapped in here all night. Even if she could enchant the unwanted audio away from her room, this ploy was so alluring, perhaps because it risky.
"I think it is. Just don't expect me to look as fab as yesterday, I've already settled in coming back from dinner."

"Darling, I don't care. I just want to see you."

They worked out a meeting spot that was open late, and she hung up with a renewed energy, his manner of speaking making her think he might be a devil in disguise.
She wanted to look nice for him. She was going out of her way to meet him in the dark of night. Maybe she'd be this way for anyone new in her life, but he wasn't new. He was absolutely deadly.

Changing from her pj's to a purple frock and black tights, she yelled through the wall she was going out for a walk.
"Take your phone!" Ginny yelled, and she could hear them both fall into a fit of giggles. And then, "Harry – stop."

Grimacing, she shook her head and was glad they didn't question her further, they probably were glad to have some privacy.

She stepped onto the block, meeting him just a five minute stroll away, fussing over her hair, her heart constricting when she spotted him sitting on the patio of one of her favourite bistro's.

"Hey beautiful," is the first thing he said to her, leaning up to kiss her on the cheek once she sat down. "I don't know why you said not to expect greatness, you look even better than last night."

"Do I?" she flushed, unable to handle the constant flow of compliments he kept handing her. "Thanks."

"You're welcome. I do like how embarrassed you get, you know. But you shouldn't always seem so surprised that I find you attractive."
He was contemplating her with a gleam in his eye, and she was a mix of nerves and flattery.

"Can't help it really. But I'll keep in mind you like dresses over jeans. Never pegged you as the type who'd pick girly over wild," she grinned, raising a brow suggestively.

"Don't rule out wild, Granger. Please," he beseeched, putting his hands together as if he were praying. "You seem more at ease, I figure you like wearing these kinds of outfits more than what you wore last night. You seemed upset I advised not wearing pants."

"I do. And I was."

Maybe it wouldn't be so bad having a stylist boyfriend, she caught herself thinking.
And then had a mild panic attack that her brain had registered the 'b' word, but promptly tried to hide her anxiety by pulling the menu in front of herself.

"Want something to eat?"

"I've just had dinner, actually. Maybe just a latte," she decided, putting the paper back down to recover.

"Oh, right. How was that, anyways? Did the Weasley's suss it out, could they sense the Malfoy aura lingering on you?" he teased.

"I washed it all away, I'm afraid," she grinned. "And it was nice. I love them; Arthur and Molly. My parents live in Newbury, and while it's easy for me to see them, it's not so for them me. Don't visit them as much as I should."

"Do you miss them, then? Your parents?" he inquired with a furrowed brow, confused why anybody would.

She tilted her head and inspected his expression, curious as to why he sounded surprised.
"Of course. Every day. Don't you?"

"Can't say that I do," he admitted, now occupying himself by spinning the spoon that rested on his napkin. "Maybe my mum a bit."

"Not good old Lucius?" she asked with a little jab, but she regretted saying it immediately when he didn't chuckle or react.

"No, don't really miss him. Wasn't exactly the kind that would tuck me in at night, take me out to play Quidditch, you know?" he explained to the table. And then a hint of a smirk fell on his face. "Even if he is 'majestic'."

"God, I can't believe I said that," Hermione groaned, grinning at him when he looked up and appeared amused. "It always seemed like you really loved them though. Got really ticked if somebody insulted them."

"What kind of a person would I be if I didn't defend my family?" he pondered, and she shrugged, supposing he was right. "I mean, don't get me wrong. I care for them quite dearly. And I know they love me and everything, but I sort of feel like, relief. Relief getting away from the manor. I kind of always have this ongoing sentiment that my only function for them is to keep up the family image. It's like that for everyone."

"That must be rough," she commented, reaching to grab his fingers.

"It's pretty easy, actually," he said as he reached back. "Maybe that's why I'm tired of the cycle. Get dressed up, get a job, get money, go display your feathers to your 'friends'. Rinse, repeat. Boring," he declared, dropping his head so it rested on top of the menu.

"What can I get started for you two?"
The waitress was tired, standing with a slouch and a heavy head. It was 10:30, and she still had 3 more hours to go. It had been too busy for her liking.

"A chai latte, please," Hermione ordered, nudging Draco to sit up so she could hand her back the menu.

"What do you recommend?" Draco asked, unsure of what all these fancy drinks were, avoiding hot chocolate because he didn't want her to think he was so juvenile.

"Oh – " the woman snapped to attention slightly, gazing at Draco, having not been questioned about her preference in a while now. "Coffee-wise?"

When he nodded she said; "Well, we do a pretty good mocha here. Cocoa and espresso. And you can have it flavoured with cinnamon, peppermint or caramel."

"That sounds fantastic," he replied dreamily, causing Hermione to snicker. "I'll have a peppermint one, and a big one. Please."

"Great," the waitress hid her amusement, marking down the instructions on her pad.

"Are you okay?" Hermione quizzed once their server left. She only now just noticed he was a bit out of it.

"Not to alarm you, but Adrian and Miles stopped by to see if I was alive earlier. I might have smoked a joint," he flashed her his teeth apologetically, crashing his head down again, kissing the top of her knuckles. "Might have."

"Oh? Everything alright?"

"Mm, yeah. Don't worry, they're not like Theo or Pansy. They don't know about us, anyways. As I think I told you, Miles encouraged me to go get you, but I don't believe he's said anything to Adrian."

"I mean, is everything good concerning you?" she asked, and it disconcerted him, the alarm in her voice. "Your bruises haven't faded, and I sense your apprehension hasn't either."

"I'm fine. They told me Blaise said I started it, and maybe I did. Not the violence, but... Maybe the minute I wanted to see him crawl was the minute I started it after such a long hiatus. But, I don't care about seeing them ever again, anymore. I just – I can't avoid them forever. I want to spend my time trying to be happy, you know? Instead of miserable, watching my back."

"If you ever need to talk, you know…." She trailed, noticing his face cloud a bit with melancholy.

"Thanks," he murmured sincerely. "I'll be rubbish, but same here, you know?"

"I know."

There was a silence that comes with complete understanding. They stared at each other with equally indecipherable expressions until their drinks came.
Draco decided to end the quiet, feeling everything become too intense, sipping his beverage when the wind picked up.

"I was reading, whatsit – Lord of the Rings the other day, and I was just finishing the final book when you rang me. You remind me a lot of the human girl in it. Eowyn. Have you read it?'

"You want to have a discussion about muggle literature?" Her eyebrows were piqued.

"I figure you're interested in it," he proposed. "And I find - Tolkien? Tolkien. I find his stuff interesting. The way he portrays elves and goblins are weird. And wizards."

"Well, it's a genre, called 'fantasy'," she grinned. "Do you go through lots of novels then? Why do I remind you of her?"
Actually, she hadn't gone through that particular series yet, and had only seen the movies. But she remembered who he was talking about, and found the comparison odd considering most of her arc was centered around being in love with Aragorn in the films.

"Yeah. Living at home with nothing to do gave me windows of opportunity for everything. Actually, it's kind of a funny story – "

"No, wait, first tell me about Eowyn," she reminded him, and he smacked his head with an 'oh, right'. A high Draco Malfoy was incredibly adorable.

"You just have that same sense of 'I can do anything' that she has. Her uncle, the king, says she can't go to war because she's a woman, it's dangerous, and she finally says 'fuck you'. And goes anyways. Defeats the Witch-king, the baddest motherfucker on the scene," he yawned, explaining this so non-chalantly she tried to keep herself from giggling.

"You're ridiculous."

"Maybe, I wasn't done. Rude. She's trapped in this kingdom for so long, struggling to be in this role she hates, and she stays strong even though she has nobody to turn to. I imagine that's how you felt at Hogwarts, being muggleborn. Potter's friend. She isn't satisfied no matter how many accomplishments she's made," he finished, smiling at her lazily. "Bit of a perfectionist."

"Do you often muse about these things?"
She would never have assumed Draco to mull over characters in books. She thought he'd think it was too trivial. But again, she also forgot that he was intelligent, that he was a human being with hobbies, not simply a Slytherin.

"About books, or about you?"
He was smirking again.

"Both."

"When I'm stoned, I overanalyze. Usually I like cheap thrills, instant indulgence, and think about it all later on after it happens. I just had you on my mind, and it so happened that there was this girl on these pages that was similar, and I made a connection...I think about you a lot."

She was at a loss for words as he remained unfazed, everything he said was done with such conviction.
Stirring her cup so the foam mixed with the cream, she was fixated on him. How in the world could he have been like this, this whole time? She'd known him for over a decade now, and now she felt so unsure of her emotions. How could somebody who used to insult her, who used to be so annoying, be different now?

"Tell me your book story," she invited him to speak.

But Hermione couldn't pay full attention to his words. She liked the way he overused his hands, gesticulating every word with fluid movement. She liked the way half his mouth rose higher than the other when he talked, and the way he licked his lips after every few sentences. She liked that he was self-aware, she liked that he had a change in mind. She liked that he tried so hard to flatter her; she just liked him.
"….so after Theo buys something from a sex shop, they're trying to figure out a way to top it, as it's my turn to go. I wanted to do something grandiose, because I was a showy idiot, so Pansy dares me to go into the Leaky Cauldron, and out the other side to the muggle part. 'Go get a book', she said, because we weren't that familiar with anything else that wasn't wizard."

"Sorry, when was this?"

"If you want me to share the story, at least listen," he poked her on the shoulder, and she reddened. "It was when I was 17. Truth or dare with my mates, because we're childish. I tiptoed out of Diagon Alley to a bookstore that was right on the corner, and I'll admit I was scared out of my mind. But I went to this one called Blackwell's, and ran up the stairs to show them I wasn't. First one I noticed was Don Quixote," he grinned at her, and now his comments on the Quidditch pitch so long ago made sense. "And I grabbed it. Realized I had no money for it, I just calmly walked out and then booked it back to the magical side of things."

"Stealing?" she scolded in a disproving tone. He merely assumed a guise of humoured shame.

"I did read it, at least," he tried.

"Did you enjoy it? And when did you return for more?"

"Not really. But I was curious. Think I got a weird sense of freedom, or maybe rebellion going there. After graduation I went and bought things off the 'classics' rack because I was too proud to ask for help. Parents probably found them in my room after I left but….meh."

They continued to discuss his choice in authors, who he liked and who he didn't, when they noticed drops of rain falling. It wasn't unexpected, they were in England after all, but it started to pour in buckets. And there was no roof, and they were getting drenched, so they took their chances and scooted inside.

Holding their mugs and waiting for an okay from a member of the staff, Draco whispered 'You look good wet', to rile her, and she elbowed him as their waitress came over.
When they were led to a corner booth, Hermione settled down, while the boy across from her suddenly froze, eyes wide, unable to utter anything articulate.

Whipping her head round, she was completely unprepared for the sight that befell her.

Remus Lupin, her favourite teacher, was snogging Sirius Black.
Gently, like an old couple would, but it was continuous like a teenaged one. The restaurant was small, they were right there; this wasn't good, this wasn't good at all.

"I thought Remus was dating Tonks," is all she managed to spit out, turning back to him.

"Fuck. They've spotted me. No, don't turn around," he instructed, when she inclined to stare at them.

He was hoping that they'd just walk away, but Sirius was confrontational, and clearly, noticing his shock, wanted to ensure that this affair would be kept secret. Anxiety gripped both of them, waiting for their fate as Sirius ambled over as nonchalant as could be. Lupin was putting his head in his hands.

"Hey there, Draco," he smiled like a madman. "What you just saw there, and don't deny it, is none of your business. You best keep your….Hermione?"

He'd leant in close, having no idea that he wasn't alone. All three heard Lupin echo her name, and then the squeak of a chair.

Now everybody's faces matched.
As Remus joined his apparent significant other, peeking into the booth, Sirius motioned for Draco to move over so he could sit. Draco exchanged a look with Hermione, who was helpless, and then did the only sensible thing and scooted down while fighting the urge to spontaneously combust.

"Why are you two together on a Saturday evening, in a renown location for couples?"
Rarely had Hermione ever heard Sirius speak with such a low inflection, and it made her immediately frightened, looking back and forth between him and Remus, who became increasingly grave. It was a question directed at Draco.

"Drinking coffee?" he suggested, but nobody found it funny.

"I could ask you the same."
Hermione sounded bitter, finding her speech shaky.
She was aflame with anger at these two men, who must have been hiding this for a long time. It was so obvious when she stopped to think about it – they were always all over one another. She just thought it was in a very close friend kind of way, they'd known each other since age 11.

They turned their heads to her, the tension suddenly snapped because of how let down she was.
"Why couldn't you tell anyone? You think we'd have judged you?"

"No, Hermione, that's not – it's complicated. And I'm not discussing this in front of him," Sirius stressed, while Draco felt himself shrinking into his seat.

"Sirius," Remus rebuked, shushing him with a finger. "Hermione, you certainly have a right to know, and an explanation. But with due time. Now you know…we can do this with everyone present. Fair?"

"I guess. But if it's not soon, I'm going to tell them," she mumbled, and Draco made the mistake of inching his hand ever-so-slightly towards hers to comfort her.

"What was that? Seriously, are you two shagging?" Sirius asked with exposed disgust. "Because that also warrants an explanation, although I would understand why you'd want this hidden. Don't be a hypocrite, you're better than that."

"Sirius."

"No, Remus, I'm not taking this delicately. Ginny called me up, Hermione, and was telling me that you and this one worked together. She couldn't figure out why, and didn't want to tell Harry to save your little backside because you never did. So she was frustrated about it to us."

She'd completely forgotten that she even informed Ginny about Draco coming to the flat, it seemed like ages ago that that whole fiasco happened.
"We're not shagging, we've been on one date. I don't think that's against the Statute of Secrecy," she stated, and Draco felt strangely aroused that she could be so incensed, probably because it was for his sake. "I haven't told Harry and Ron, or Ginny, yet, because of what their reactions would be, and it would destroy any relationship before it starts. But assuming it works out, I'm going to tell them all. Not wait Merlin knows how long you've been at it for," she spat.

"Well it's a wonder they'd act like that, isn't it?" he jibed, throwing his hands up. "He's a Malfoy, Hermione. What the hell are you thinking?"

"Excuse me, I'm sitting right here," Draco interrupted, folding his arms, very uncomfortable.

"Good, I can keep an eye on you that way," Sirius shot back, returning to Hermione. "How can you waive his past offences?"

"You think I haven't thought about them? I know you're trying to see what's best for me, but it's up to me to decide my actions, alright? We're not thirteen anymore," she settled, and they all felt as if she was confirming this for herself along with trying to convince them.

"Maybe not, but these people never change! You think it's wise pursuing another conceited, Slytherin prat? Come on, Hermione. Look what happened last time!"

Draco so desired to slap this man, even if he had her best interests at heart, when she did one. She huffed with dignity away out of her chair, wanting to escape them, rushing outside to let off some steam.

Suddenly Sirius remembered where he was, forgetting his anger for a minute, feeling foolish. Remus was giving him such a look of disappointment, he relented giving Draco the business.

"Fix it," Lupin instructed, pointing to the door.
As much as he loved this man in front of him, Sirius' worst quality could be devastating. He was so like James, was so like Harry. They were opinionated and stubborn, and adding to their best ventures - being loyal and caring – they often forgot to take friend's words into question when they felt they were being delusional or wanted to spare them some pain.

"But Draco – "

"I'll talk to him, now go."
Remus was possibly the only person on planet Earth who could tame the unruly Black heir, and the Malfoy heir who was now sitting across from him was so awed by this (having heard innumerable tales from his mother about her cousin), he was suddenly more scared to be left alone with Lupin.

He knew this teacher was stricken with lycanthropy, and though he'd always found werewolves disgusting by nature, he couldn't see anything other than kindness and understanding in this person sat across from him.

Sulking like a petulant child, Sirius exited the building to go find his godson's best friend.
They watched him go, and then, when Lupin surveyed him, he struggled to return the gesture, swallowing a lump in his throat.

"You do realize why we're sceptical, don't you?"
He was calm as could be, hands clasped together, spectacles slightly lowered on his nose. Though there were scars on his hands, his eyes were filled with warmth and empathy, and Draco didn't know how to answer to that.

"I do."
Memories of sneering at this man, at his shabby clothes, and his kindred spirit were flooding back to him. Of encouraging the other students to do the same and insult him.

"You do like her, don't you."
It was a statement, not a question.

"I really do," he confessed, figuring if he could win him over, he'd have less trouble than he would without his help.

"Funny how these things happen," he smiled, unnerving the boy to a great extent.

"It's not though," Draco blurted out, continuing when he had caught his awareness. "Hermione is amazing, isn't she? It's crazier that she doesn't despise me, given how much of an arse I've been."

Lupin guffawed a bit, shaking his head in disbelief.

"What?"

"If I wasn't here to witness it, I wouldn't have believed it was Draco Malfoy saying these things to me," he shared, enjoying the pink rise on this young man's cheeks. "You know, it's not a secret anymore, but I was great friends with Harry's parents."

Draco stiffened, unsure of where he was going with this.

"Lily Potter was the most kind woman I've probably ever known, and Hermione often reminds me of her. She's extraordinary at magic, and very compassionate. A rarity it feels sometimes."

When Draco offered no commentary, he continued.
"Before she saw James, there was somebody Lily hung out with, who we all loathed. Do you know who it is?"

Draco shook his head: "It was Severus."

"Snape?"

"Yes, Professor Snape. He was becoming a Death Eater, she hated it, but they'd been friends before even Hogwarts, had a connection nobody udnerstood." He was gobsmacked at this information, suddenly gripped on Remus' every passing breath. Potter hated Snape, was this a reason why? Had he known? "I didn't care for him much, but respected her choices. Until one day, he made a mistake. In front of his Slytherin pals he called her a mudblood. And the friendship was destroyed. I always got the feeling that he liked her as more than just good mates, but I don't know for sure."

"I – don't know what to say," Draco replied honestly.

"You don't have to. What I'm saying is, if you want to be with Hermione, then treat her well. If she has forgiven your transgressions, that's up to her, as she said. Don't let the ego your father has passed to you get in the way of taking care of her. You slip up once, she's gone. And I swear, if you do anything to hurt her, you're going to regret it. That's not a threat, but a fact. And I don't think Harry, or Ron for that matter, would take it lightly."

There was nothing he could come up with that would express any sort of deserved gratitude, or thanks. Because nobody ever has been so measured upon talking to him, nobody bothered to give him advice before that was useful.
But he thought that Lupin had an inkling of how he felt. Because Sirius returned with Hermione under his arm, red rimmed and tear-stained, and Remus beckoned for Sirius to sit on his side.

She slithered next to him, and he grabbed her hand under the tabletop, reassuring her as best he could. Sirius decided to speak:
"Don't trust you within an inch of my life, son. But if this lady is willing to give you a shot, you must have done something properly. So don't mess it up, or I'll mail your dear daddy about your romantic missions, and he may or may not disown you."

"Only if I'm lucky," he retorted, and he was glad to finally get a hearty chuckle from them both.

"I'd warn you to tell Harry soon about this, but it's your life," Remus told Hermione, who could only give a weak grin in return.

"Maybe one more week," she sighed. "Have had enough drama to last forever."

"Get prepared for more. Don't think the pureblood lot will love the pairing, given Blaise is in it. They're a spiteful bunch, eh? Don't know the bloke personally, but his mother is a pretty vain piece of work."

"I don't really associate with them anymore," Draco dismissed the notion. "Could be the best decision I've ever made."

"And your parents?" Sirius inquired, quieted again by this admission.

"They can deal."

"I don't know who you are, or if you're putting on a front, but you better keep this behaviour up forever."

"Sirius," Lupin reprimanded for the millionth time, though this time he was laughing. "Shall we have a coming out party, both literal and figurative?"

"What, just; 'Hey guys, we're gay and Hermione's dating another Slytherin?'"

"Yes, please," Hermione pleaded. "Not right this second."

"We're supposed to be adults, we can monitor the situation, can't we?"

"Supposed to be, like that's stopped us before," Sirius snorted. "What say you, Draco?"

"Hell, I guess it's as good as any idea, although I'd rather not be present so I don't get pulverized."

"We'll figure it out," Hermione told him, pecking him on the cheek.

The two older men found the set scene bizarre, exchanging glances, but holding their tongues.
"I guess we should get going, then. Eh, Reems?"

"Reems?" Draco muttered, and Hermione stifled a giggle.

"It's a cute nickname, shut it."
Draco was about to begrudgingly apologize, when he noticed Sirius was goading him.

"Night, Hermione. Draco. Keep in touch."

And with that, they stood up to leave, paying their bill and waving goodbyes.
It was once again a surreal surrounding, as if they'd dodged a bullet, and Draco couldn't help be pessimistic and wonder when his luck was going to run out.

Trying to get back to where they'd been, refreshing their coffees, they discussed books again, and then speculated the scandal ("How long do you think they've been together?").
Draco gave Hermione his sweater, as she had become soaked once more running off into the rain. And when they parted ways, he let her keep it. She got home, realizing it was nearly two o'clock in the morning, and went to bed only wearing what he'd given her, breathing in his scent, very hopeful that this might actually work itself out.

Across town, Draco was wearing nothing. Thumbing below his waist, he was filled with mixed feelings, but was so jubilant about the past night, and having not been murdered in a restaurant, that he fell asleep relieved, dreaming of the next time he'd see her.